


Veni, Vidi, Amavi

by FallingLikeThis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Desperate Sex, Ghost Harry, Haunted Houses, M/M, Memory Loss, Past Character Death, Past Lives, Pining, Reincarnation, Riding, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-06 03:51:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12203337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingLikeThis/pseuds/FallingLikeThis
Summary: “Do you think it’s true?” Louis asks.“That soulmates really exist?”“Of course they do,” Harry’s answer is immediate. He catches Louis’ wrist and brings his hand to his lips, pressing a kiss into his palm before placing it over his own heart. “I already found mine.”Louis smiles. “Does that mean that you’ll love me forever?” He asks, whispering against his lips. “Even in the afterlife?”“Perhaps,” Harry grins slyly, nudging their noses together lightly and teasing Louis with a brush of his lips before pulling away again. They haven’t said those words yet, though Louis must know. Harry tells him in every single other possible way.  “I wouldn’t even go to the afterlife without you.”“You’d stay with me? Haunt me?” He asks, wrapping a hand around the back of Harry’s neck, tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair.“I’d stay,” he agrees. “I’d wait for you forever.”“Promise?” Louis asks coyly, moving to straddle Harry’s lap.“I promise,” Harry answers, pulling Louis to him so that they can finally share that kiss.*Harry remembers why he stayed now, why he’s always had that feeling of waiting. He was holding out for Louis, his soulmate. He was keeping his promise.





	Veni, Vidi, Amavi

**Author's Note:**

> My prompt for this was haunt/haunting, which is appropriate because this fic has been haunting me ever since.
> 
> Special thank you to my betas Lisa and Michelle and especially to Jacky for her endless patience. LOVE YOU, JACKY!

 

For a long time Harry didn’t know where he was. He’d been lost… drifting. And then one day, suddenly, there was light. He’d opened his eyes and he was _home_.

Unfortunately, it seemed his home wasn’t his own anymore. Other people, strangers, stomped from room to room, trampling over his memories and _changing things_. And for a while, he could do nothing about it. He was but a wisp, intangible to those around him.

Harry watched with sadness felt all the way down to the bones he no longer possessed as stranger after stranger arrived and changed everything he’d loved about this place he used to call his. He watched… and waited. He had no idea why, but he knew that’s what this was. He was _waiting for something_. He just didn’t know what yet.

Harry hadn’t remembered much about his life but, as the years passed by, he’d remember bits and pieces. At first, it was just the house. A place he’d helped build with his own hands. It was _for someone_ , the house. It had been a gift. A wedding present? Maybe not. He still couldn’t grasp that part, it always felt just out of reach when he’d tried.

Years passed, a full century spread out behind him, and Harry got used to being mostly alone. He’d found that he could move things if he _really_ concentrated. So he got really good at that, using the skill to move things back to the way he liked them when someone would show up and change things around. He hadn’t minded the last family to live in his house. It had been small, a lovely couple and their child, and it hadn’t felt like they were intruding on Harry’s space or time. They’d left Harry’s things where they were and only added their own to the collection. Harry was content with the arrangement. Not happy exactly, but close enough. They’ve left him now though and he’s on his own again.  All alone and waiting, once more.

 

*****

 

At the sound of a car door slamming outside, Harry immediately moves to the banister on the second floor to watch the front door and see who the estate agent has brought this time. It’s been awhile since there was a prospective buyer for the house and Harry feels a bit like an excited child, waiting to receive a gift. He sits at the top of the stairs and waits, giddy with excitement. Soon enough, the estate agent is unlocking the front door and gesturing for her potential buyer to enter first.

Harry’s first thought is that the man who walks through the doorway is stunning. He has wispy hair that sticks out in every direction, giving him a sexy windblown look. Stubble on his cheeks that makes him look rugged and manly. His lips are thin and set in a frown and his eyes are wary as they look around the room but Harry still can’t be sure he’s ever seen anyone that can give him quite as many butterflies as this man does. There’s something calming about him too, almost… familiar. With this man, the feeling Harry has had for so long, that sense of anticipation, of _waiting_ , seems to dissipate to almost nothing.

Harry is relieved. He’s grown sick of waiting.

The man sighs, looking around as the estate agent practically begs him to take the house off of her hands.

"It's a bit big, innit? For just one person," the man asks.

At the sound of his voice, memories come rushing back to Harry. Dark nights spent in candlelight, wrapped around the naked body of his lover. Soft, lazy mornings when a kiss was all the 'hello' they needed. This man feels familiar because _he is_. Harry _knows_ him. He’s too young for it to be real, he looks exactly the same as he did all those years ago, like he hasn’t aged a day, but it has to be true.

"Louis?" He whispers to himself as a translucent tear trails down his cheek. “ _Is that you_?”

 

*****

 

**1912**

_Harry brushes his fingertips over the naked skin of his lover’s hip, his toes curling in the cool sheets behind Louis’ head as he drapes his chest over the other man’s legs._

_Louis looks gorgeous like this, naked in Harry’s bed, his head tilted down as he reads a passage of poetry from Harry’s favorite book by candlelight. His voice is a quiet rasp in the night that feels like a caress and Harry knows that there is no other love for him in all the world._

_“I shall love you with my living breath._

_My heart, a burning flame,_

_That surges to life with each inhale_

_And forever shall remain.”_

 

_Louis grins at the tickling of Harry’s fingers, leaving trails of gooseflesh in their wake. He places his hand over Harry’s, grins wider when Harry entwines their fingers, and keeps reading._

 

_“I shall love you with my dying breath,_

_Choked with smoke and scorching._

_And yet the fire within will still burn on_

_Beyond the bells of morning.”_

 

_Harry presses a kiss to Louis’ thigh, right below the swell of his bum and Louis pauses and gasps at the unexpected touch. He turns to glare at Harry, a hint of his grin remaining and Harry stares back at him innocently, waiting for him to continue reading. He does, grin returning once his gaze shifts back to the page before him. Harry loves him so much._

 

_“I shall love you when I have no breath,_

_Long after my earthly days,_

_Lingering, a soul on fire,_

_Waiting for its mate.”_

 

_Harry smiles against Louis’ skin at the words of the poem as Louis turns his head, giving Harry a contemplative look._

_“Do you think it’s true?” Louis asks, letting the book fall closed as he sits up, reaching to tuck a wild tuft of Harry’s hair back into place when Harry moves to meet him. “That soulmates really exist?”_

_“Of course they do,” Harry’s answer is immediate. He catches Louis’ wrist and brings his hand to his lips, pressing a kiss into his palm before placing it over his own heart. “I already found mine.”_

_Louis smiles, tapping his fingers along to the beat of Harry’s heart. “Does that mean that you’ll love me forever?” He asks, leaning forward until his nose brushes Harry’s so that he can whisper against his lips. “Even in the afterlife?”_

_“Perhaps,” Harry grins slyly, nudging their noses together lightly and teasing Louis with a brush of his lips before pulling away again. They haven’t said those words yet, though Louis must know. Harry tells him in every single other possible way.  “I wouldn’t even go to the afterlife without you.”_

_“You’d stay with me? Haunt me?” He asks, wrapping a hand around the back of Harry’s neck, tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair._

_“I’d stay,” he agrees. “I’d wait for you forever.”_

_“Promise?” Louis asks coyly, moving to straddle Harry’s lap._

_“I promise,” Harry answers, pulling Louis to him so that they can finally share that kiss._

 

**_*_ **

 

Harry remembers why he stayed now, why he’s always had that feeling of _waiting._ He was holding out for Louis, his soulmate. He was keeping his promise.

 

**_*_ **

 

Louis has had this _feeling_ in his gut his entire life, like he’s been searching for something. When Gigi, the estate agent, brings Louis to a rundown two-story cottage in the middle of nowhere, he’s not thinking about that feeling. It doesn’t even register. Not when she pulls up the driveway, not when she opens the door. But once Louis steps inside, he _knows._ He’s found it.

Louis’ not sure why this house is what he’s been searching for. After growing up with four siblings and then having to move home to help his mother out financially when she’d had two new ones, he’d been craving a space just for himself, but he’s not certain specifically what makes _this house_ the place he needs. The fact that he falls in love with it the second he walks through the door certainly doesn’t hurt though. The only problem is, it’s well out of his price range.

As a fledgling author, Louis has some money, but not an exorbitant amount, especially given his genre. Gigi wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer though, insisting he had to see it with his own eyes. He hates to admit that she was right, but that doesn’t change the amount of money in his bank account.

“It’s a bit big, innit? For just one person?” He asks, looking around dubiously. “And drafty,” he adds when a sudden chill in the air reaches his arms.

“I’ll cut the price in half,” Gigi says hurriedly and Louis turns to actually look at her, realizing that he hasn’t since he walked in. She’s still standing just outside the threshold.

He studies her for a second, narrowing his eyes, and realizes that she looks nervous. “Why?” He asks suspiciously.

“I, uhm, I loved your last book!” She chirps and he’d bet every last penny he has that she had no idea he was a published author before he’d told her on the phone earlier.

“You loved my book? On 19th century romantic poetry?” He didn’t choose his passions, they chose him. And he’s well aware that his topic of choice isn’t something a majority of other people choose either.

“Uh huh,” Gigi squeaks, nodding quickly, though Louis can see in her eyes the way she’s questioning her choices.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Louis says, rubbing at the stubble on his chin, keen to let her keep her lie if it means he can have a little fun. “What would you say was the most interesting part?”

She pulls her lips in, biting the bottom one for a moment before answering in an almost frenzied manner as she shakes her head, “Couldn’t choose. It was all so… _fascinating._ ” She smiles and it looks manic.

Louis nods, trying very hard to keep a straight face. “Thank you, Gigi,” he tells her, “but I can’t accept your offer.” He may be willing to let her get away with her lie, but he’s not stupid enough to take an offer that’s too good to be true.

“I’ll take another third off the price,” she rushes out.

“Gigi,” Louis scolds lightly, tilting his head at her. He thinks it’s time to call her on her bluff. “We both know you’re not one of the three people that have read my book. Now, if there’s something wrong with the house, you have to tell me.”

She titters anxiously, waving a hand at him. “Alright, you caught me. I was going to tell you. It’s just a silly story really, but some people believe it.”

“Believe what?” Louis asks, looking around the house, searching for signs of something nefarious. He catches a glimpse of something moving on the second story from the corner of his eye and turns his head towards the stairs. Louis thinks he sees something like a wisp of smoke but he blinks and it’s gone. Maybe it was never there.

“Oh, there’s just a tiny rumor floating around town that the house is… _haunted,_ ” Gigi tells him, drawing his attention back to her. Her voice lowers when she says the word ‘haunted’, like she’s afraid someone other than Louis will hear her.

 

_You’d stay with me? Haunt me…_

 

Louis shakes his head, unsure where his mind went for a moment, and then he looks at Gigi, standing just outside the doorway, cowering from a _house._

“Another third off?” Louis checks, making sure the offer was real. It’s still a bit much. But he can afford it, if he lives on pot noodles for a while.

Gigi sighs. “You’re robbing me blind but fine. I’ll take _another_ third off the price.”

“I—” Louis quickly shuts his mouth. That wasn’t what he meant but he’d be stupid not to take it. “I’ll take it.”

“Really? I mean, wonderful!” Gigi says, immediately taking a step back from the doorway. “Well, let’s go start the paperwork!”

Louis takes another look around the house, a smile playing on his lips as he follows behind. She stops him before he can cross over the threshold, looking at him curiously.

“It really doesn’t bother you?” She asks, maybe despite knowing that she shouldn’t. “That there may be a… a ghost?”

Louis chuckles, hand on the doorknob to pull it closed behind him as he exits. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

 

**_*_ **

 

Harry waits. For the first time in a while he doesn’t mind the waiting because he finally knows what he’s waiting _for._ _Who_ he’s waiting for. And he heard the end of Louis’ conversation with the estate agent, he knows Louis will return to him, he just doesn’t know when.

He sits on the stairs, waiting patiently. All he’s got is time now, he can afford to be patient. His mind goes back to that moment when Louis had looked his way and Harry had just… hid. He wasn’t ready. A hundred years between them and he wasn’t ready when he’d gotten a second chance. He drops his head into his hands in despair.

It makes sense to wait, it does. That woman had been there and what kind of a reunion would that have been? Plus, Harry has no idea if Louis will even be able to see him. No one else has. It’s _Louis_ though, he’d always seen Harry at times and in ways that no one else could even dream of. Of course he’ll be the one person to see Harry now. _Won’t he?_

Harry sighs and raises his head, watching the daylight fade from the room as evening falls.  He supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

 

*****

 

Louis grunts under the heavy weight of another box as he brings it in from the moving truck, dropping it next to the door instead of carrying it further in.

“I think it’s time for a break,” he tells himself. Or maybe he’s telling his _ghost._ He laughs aloud at the mere thought of it.

Walking over to the sofa he flops down on it sideways, crossing his legs at the ankle and resting his feet on the arm at the other side. He moans as he relaxes into it, it’s so comfortable. Louis doesn’t really get why the last owners didn’t take it with them but, oh well, that’s his gain. He stares at the ceiling and takes a moment to just _be._ It’s been so long since he’s been able to just sit still and not have to do something for someone else every five minutes. It’s like this house is his getaway from reality and he loves it. Seems like a good place to hide away for a while. Maybe that’s why it feels like what he’s been searching for. Feels a bit like _home_ already actually and Louis’ not sure how that’s possible. He’ll take it though.

After resting for a few minutes, Louis sighs and sits up, restless, he’d rather get his unpacking done before nightfall which means lunch now and getting to the rest of the truck after he eats. He moves to circle the couch, ready to head to the kitchen but freezes at the sight of a strange man standing in his doorway. “Oh, uh, hi?”

The man looks startled, almost as though he hadn’t expected Louis to notice him there. “Hello,” he says finally.

“Is there something I can do for you?” Louis asks, trailing his gaze down the stranger’s body.  He’s in a three piece suit. It’s nice, though old-fashioned. _Really_ old fashioned. He looks lovely in it, but Louis guesses this man would look nice in anything. Weird sense of style aside, the man is gorgeous with jade eyes, and pink lips and brown windblown hair that hints at curls if there were a little more length to it.

He flinches at Louis’ question. “Do you not… know me?”

“I don’t know,” Louis shrugs. “Should I?”

He looks at Louis with hurt in his eyes, devastation written all over his face. “You don’t remember me,” he whispers and Louis feels guilty even though he’s certain this man has confused him for someone else.

“I’m sorry,” he tries to placate the stranger, not wanting to be the cause of the way his heart is clearly breaking. “Maybe it would help if you told me your name.”

“Harry. My name is Harry Styles,” he says, his eyes pleading Louis to remember who he is. And the things is, the name _feels_ familiar but Louis is wracking his brain and he can’t seem to remember where he might have heard it.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Styles,” Louis says, giving him a look of apology. “My name is Louis. I just moved in here. Are you sure I am who you think I am?”

Harry looks away but, even where he stands, Louis can see the way his eyes fill with unshed tears. It makes him want to reach out, to offer comfort that seems too intimate for someone he’s just met. He fights the urge, wondering what’s wrong with him. “I know exactly who you are, Louis,” Harry answers with reddened cheeks and bitten lips.

Louis doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know this man, never has as far as he knows.

“I promised to wait for you,” Harry tells him quietly as the wind whistles through the open doorway, bringing a gust of autumn leaves scattering into the house. “I kept my promise.” His eyes lift to meet Louis’ confused stare and the intensity in his gaze sends a shiver down Louis’ back. “For a moment, I hoped that you had kept yours.”

The wind picks up even more and Louis’ eyes fall to the leaves that billow clear across the room, turning to watch them as they make a mess of his new house.

“What pro-” He turns back to ask Harry, only to find that the stranger is gone. “-mise?”

It was a strange encounter, to say the least. Louis moves to the door, sticking his head out to look in every direction for some trace of the other man, but he’s vanished. Louis just wishes he knew what Harry had been talking about.

 

*****

 

**1912**

 

_“Fuck,” Louis breathes as he lowers himself slowly down onto Harry’s cock once more._

_“Yeah,” Harry agrees on a moan, holding Louis’ hips with gentle hands, helping him as he rises again. “God, you’re amazing.”_

_“Tell me more,” Louis grins wickedly, setting a slightly faster pace, the crash and recede of their movements sending waves of pleasure through both of them._

_“You’re beautiful,” Harry gives in to Louis’ demands, moving a hand to the small of Louis’ back, using it to pull him forward so that he can kiss him, long and deep. He’ll always give in to Louis._

_Louis breaks the kiss but lingers, pressing his forehead against Harry’s, slowing down his movements again so that they can have this. “Tell me something you don’t tell me every single time,” Louis teases with a quick nip to his lower lip._

_“I’m gonna build you a house,” Harry whispers against his lips. “A place to get away from the rest of the world. A place where we can be together in broad daylight, without the fear of anyone finding out about us.”_

_Louis smiles, gaze wistful, enjoying the image Harry is painting. “Will there be a sunroom? With lots of big, bold windows?”_

_“I’ll build you the house of your dreams,” Harry tells him, cupping Louis’ jaw with both hands when Louis stops moving, seating himself on Harry’s cock and clenching around him. “Ugh,” Harry grunts at the feeling, closing his eyes to savor it before opening them again to gaze at Louis with adoration, caressing his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “Anything your heart desires.”_

_“I want a sunroom,” Louis laughs, moving his hands from where they’d been clutching Harry’s shoulders to tangle both of them in his hair. “Want you to fuck me in the sun.”_

_“Baby, I’ll fuck you anywhere you like,” Harry smiles back. He loves the sound of Louis’ laughter, the joy he has at the thought of being with Harry in broad daylight._

_“Mmm,” Louis hums, as he begins riding Harry’s cock again in earnest. “Is that a promise?”_

_“Why am I the one making all the promises?” Harry breathes out a laugh._

_“Because you’re devoted to me,” Louis answers smugly, sighing in pleasure when Harry wraps a hand around his cock to help bring him off. Harry can’t exactly argue with that._

_“And you’re not devoted to me?” Harry grins, already knowing the answer._

_“Make me come and I’ll make you all the promises you want,” Louis begs, breaths coming faster as Harry strokes his dick, making him see stars when he orgasms._

_Shortly after they’ve both reached their climax and are simply lying in bed together in sweat-stained sheets, Louis’ head on Harry’s chest, Harry’s arm wrapped around his shoulder, Louis whispers a promise of his own into the night. “No matter where we end up, no matter what happens to us outside these walls. I’ll always find my way back to you.”_

_It sounds ominous, Harry thinks. Like Louis is expecting the worst for them. Harry cards his fingers through Louis’ hair and tries not to imagine it. But when Louis raises his head and meets Harry’s eyes, there is nothing in his own but serenity._

_“I’ll always come back to you. I promise.”_

 

**_*_ **

 

Louis doesn’t know him. He doesn’t remember the nights he and Harry spent together in this very house. The days in the sunroom that Louis had asked for, never expecting Harry to actually give it to him.  It hurts more than Harry ever could have imagined, feels like his soul has been torn in two. It has, he supposes, because Louis has always been the other half of him.

He could see Harry though. That has to mean something. It _has to._ Maybe Harry can help him remember. Because now that Harry remembers Louis, he knows he’ll never be able to forget again.

Harry roams through the house, reliving memories in each room, careful to stay where Louis won’t see him. His heart breaks a thousand times over and he clutches onto the pain, holding it close. A heart can only break if it has loved, and that means that it’s all real. Louis is real and what they had together is real. Maybe if Harry is very, very lucky, it can be again.

 

**_*_ **

 

Louis finishes unpacking just before midnight, he’s a bit grumpy and a lot exhausted so he goes up to the room he chose as his bedroom, flicking on the light. There’s a beautiful canopy bed that came with the house and Louis longs to lie in it, cuddle under his duvet and go to sleep but he has to go through his bedtime routine first. He loves this room the most, he thinks as he picks out some sleeping clothes, though that amazing sunroom downstairs is a close second. The whole house is a marvel but it’s the essence of the room itself that makes Louis feel like he _belongs_ here.  Like the room itself has accepted him for all that he is.  He’s never felt so entirely at ease.

 

 _This is_ our _room? Presumptuous much?_

 

Louis blinks, finding his reflection staring back at him in the mirror of his en suite. He doesn’t remember leaving the bedroom. Looking down, he sees his toothbrush sitting on the counter and reaches for it, shaking the moment away and writing it off as exhaustion at work. Brushing his teeth, he silently promises his reflection that a shower will come first thing in the morning and then he takes a piss before padding back to that big, comfortable-looking bed. It’s a bit like laying on a cloud, Louis imagines, as he drifts blissfully into sleep.

 

*****

 

**1913**

_Harry leads Louis by the hand to the bedroom of their new home. Here, they’re far away from the prying eyes of busybody neighbors. Here, they can do anything, be anyone. It’s their own little corner of the world and Harry built it with his own two hands._

_“And this is our room,” Harry announces happily, gesturing Louis to enter ahead of him and have a look around._

_“This is_ our _room?” Louis asks, looking at him with a raise brow. He turns around with a smirk, giving Harry his back. “Presumptuous much?”_

 _Harry knows this game, the one where Louis pretends he’s not absolutely thrilled at the prospect of waking up in his lover’s arms each morning. He also knows how to_ win _this game._ _He sidles up behind Louis, wrapping his arms low around his waist and pulling him close, burying his face in Louis’ neck just long enough to press a kiss there. “Maybe it is. But I presume a lot of things when it comes to you, sweetheart,” he says, pushing his half hard cock into Louis’ arse, slipping the tips of his fingers into the waistband of Louis’ trousers just enough to tease. “Or should I not presume?” He asks innocently, when Louis presses back into him, moving his crotch away so that Louis gets no satisfaction._

_“Fuck, Harry,” Louis whines, gripping Harry’s hands where they’re pressed into his abdomen. “Don’t torment me like this.”_

_Harry chuckles. “You mean like you torment me constantly?”_

_Louis sighs, pressing back again and this time finding Harry right where he needs him. He moans at the feel of Harry’s unyielding cock and turns abruptly in his arms to pull him into a heated kiss. He flicks his tongue against Harry’s drawing him into yet another battle of wills. Harry licks into Louis’ mouth with fervor, giving as good as he gets, though he knows there will be no losers on this battlefield._

_Louis draws back with a final chaste kiss to Harry’s lips, gazing into Harry’s eyes with delight. “Thank you for my house, Harry. I love it.”_

_“I’d give you the world, Louis.”_

_“I know. But all that I need is right here… and here,” Louis grins, palming Harry’s dick through his trousers. He wiggles his eyebrows, bends forward to peck Harry’s lips again, and then pulls away completely. “Race you to the sunroom!”_

_And he’s off, laughter trailing behind while Harry hurries to overtake him._

 

**_*_ **

 

The sounds of birds chirping happily in the trees outside his window coax Louis from sleep. He wakes with a smile on his face, warm and cozy. It occurs to him to check the time but he doesn’t in an act of rebellion. He doesn’t have to now. As of today, taking care of himself is his only responsibility. He stretches, limbs spread out across the bed as he yawns, a deep sigh of contentment following as he relaxes again.

Louis sits up slowly, feet finding the floor and toes curling against the cold. He should really get some slippers or something. After a quick shower, he dresses and heads downstairs for breakfast, unsure what he possibly has to eat. He may have to go out for breakfast and then to do the shopping. He’s at least got some tea though and that’s what he needs the most.

Once his tea is ready, Louis takes his cup with him to the sunroom. He’s been dying for a chance to use it when it’s all lit up and sunny. He imagines it must feel warm and inviting when the sun is at its highest.

Taking a step into the room, he freezes at the sight of someone sitting in the window seat, staring out at the world beyond the glass.

“Harry?” He calls before he can think better of it.

Harry turns, eyes widening in shock as he gets to his feet. “Louis! Do you remember me?”

“Yeah, I remember you from yesterday! What the fuck are you doing in my house?” Louis rants, taking a step backwards. Perhaps he shouldn’t have felt sorry for the strange visitor the day before. Maybe he’s dangerous.

“Oh,” Harry intones, lowering his head in defeat. And then, right before Louis’ eyes, he fades out of sight.

Louis blinks, blinks again keeping his eyes closed for a count of five, and opens them. Still no one there. “What the hell?” He whispers, standing there staring at a stream of sunlight and nothing else, looking like he’s just seen a ghost.

 

_You’d stay with me? Haunt me…_

 

*****

 

Harry knows it’s a bad idea, returning to their bedroom. It’s Louis’ room once more but Harry doesn’t belong here any longer. He’s not even sure how, but Louis has moved on without him, it seems. It’s tearing Harry apart.

He hates hurting like this, but he has to face the pain if he wants to hold on to the memories. And the memories are what he needs the most. The way Louis smiled when it was just for Harry and no one else, the way Louis’ skin felt against his own, the way their hands fit together _just right_. Harry _needs_ these things. They’re all he has left.

“Harry?” He hears Louis’ voice call out tentatively as he sits at the foot of Louis’ bed, his words are followed by a squeak on the stairs. “Are you here?”

He’s right outside the bedroom now and Harry considers just leaving, not being there when Louis opens the door but he doesn’t make the decision fast enough.

“Oh,” Louis breathes sounding surprised. Maybe he wasn’t expecting to find what he was looking for. Maybe he was hoping he wouldn’t. “There you are.”

Harry smiles sadly at the little surge of hope in his heart because Louis was looking for him. His reaction to finding Harry doesn’t seem promising though so his heart is hoping in vain, he thinks. “I’m sorry for scaring you,” Harry tells him, finding it difficult to keep eye contact. “It seems to be all I’m good for anymore.”

“Well, I mean, you are a ghost, right?” Louis asks with a weak chuckle as he runs a hand through his hair, “it’s in the job description, innit?” He winces when Harry doesn’t even crack a tiny smile. “Sorry, I tend to make jokes when I’m nervous. That was tactless of me."

Harry shrugs, forgiving him easily. Harry’s made a bad joke here or there himself. He’s hardly one to judge. “It’s okay.”

“So, you _are_ a ghost?” Louis asks, taking a small step closer. Harry can’t help but feel like a curiosity to him and it’s disheartening. But he supposes it’s better than being someone Louis doesn’t want around at all.

Harry nods, watching each miniscule movement Louis makes.

“How long have you been… you know…? If you don’t mind me asking?” He questions, taking another step into the room.

“Too long,” Harry answers. “A little over a hundred years, I guess.”

He can see the curiosity alight in Louis’ eyes. “So then, how do you know me? I’ve never been here before.”

“In another life, I suppose,” Harry tells him. He doesn’t really understand it himself. “We were lovers.”

Louis chokes on air. Harry worries for him, rising from the bed and taking a step in his direction. He stops when Louis takes a step back.

“Lovers?!” He spits out when he can breathe again.  “I—”

Louis seems to struggle for words and Harry can see a blush blooming on his cheeks. His heart floods with warmth and agony and love. Yes. _Love._ He’s still so in love even after all this time.

Harry realizes quite suddenly that he never told Louis. Not with those words. He had told him in every other way he knew how, but he’d never come right out and said it. He chances another step towards Louis and maybe it’s something in his eyes, but Louis doesn’t back away, letting Harry invade his space.

“I never got to tell you,” Harry admits aloud, trying to caress Louis’ cheek and feeling a heart-wrenching sense of disappointment when the back of his knuckles fade into his skin, sending a shiver through Louis’ whole body.

*

“Tell me what?” Louis asks, his voice quaking. This man, this _ghost_ seems so familiar but Louis can’t put a name to _why._

Harry shakes his head sadly, dropping his hand to his side. “It doesn’t matter, if you don’t remember me, Lou. _Tell me you remember me_ ,” He pleads and Louis can see the desperation in his eyes just as clearly as if he was corporeal.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I can’t.” It hurts Louis’ heart to say it. He wants to say that he can remember everything. He wants to help this poor, beautiful soul find his peace, but he also doesn’t want to lie to him.

Harry gazes at Louis longingly in silence and Louis can swear that he sees the glimmer of a tear on one of Harry’s cheeks. “I should have told you,” Harry whispers, once again fading from view.

Louis stands there, filled with so many strong and unexpected emotions. “Tell me _what_?” He asks the empty room hopelessly, as though it has any answers for him. It might, if walls could talk, but they can’t, so Louis hangs his head, no answers received.

 

*****

 

It’s only when Louis’ eating his dinner that night, a sad microwave pizza and a glass of cheap wine, that Harry reappears.

“Still can’t cook, can you?” He asks, leaning against the kitchen counter with a little smile. His eyes remain sad though.

“I can cook!” Louis argues, amending his statement a moment later at Harry’s knowing look of disbelief. “A little.”

His smile grows at Louis’ admission, his melancholy diminishing a little. “You could only barely cook eggs before. Can you cook anything else now?”

Louis squirms in his seat. No, he cannot. It’s so weird, how Harry seems to know things about him. Louis doesn’t know if he believes in this ‘past lives’ stuff but then, a day ago he didn’t believe in ghosts either. “Not really. Was too busy taking care of other people to really learn how to fend for myself,” Louis shrugs. It didn’t bother him, having to help care for all of his younger siblings growing up but maybe that’s why he’d needs a space of his own so badly now.

“You’re still very much the same, it seems,” Harry muses, gazing at him fondly. Harry is truly lovely and Louis finds himself wishing that he had earned that gaze. He doesn’t feel like he deserves it though.

“You hardly know me,” Louis disagrees, pushing his plate away and taking a gulp of his wine.

“I think I do,” Harry says with a thoughtful tilt of his head. “I know the way you play with your hair when you’re nervous.”

Louis quickly removes his hand from his hair and takes another sip of wine, trying to ignore the slow step Harry takes in his direction.

“I know that using poetry is your favorite way to get the attention of a suitor.”

“How did you—?” Louis squawks, staring at Harry and his smug little smirk, feeling a little exposed at how Harry seems to know such things about him.

“That’s how you got my attention. You quoted some poetry to me the day we met. I already couldn’t look away from you and then you were flirting with me using poetry,” Harry shakes his head a little, mind far away lost in memory and this is the happiest that Louis has seen him.  “I was a goner in the first five minutes.” His gaze clears and he looks at Louis with such affection that Louis feels his heart flutter. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Harry smiles fades quickly, eyes darting around their surroundings, no doubt seeing all the things that are different from how they were in the past he’s trying so hard to hold onto. Louis wants to cry, wants to bring back everything that Harry’s lost.

“I should go.”

“Wait,” Louis calls before Harry can fade away. He likes Harry and he hates that he seems so lonely, so sad. “You could stay. If you wanted.”

Harry searches his face, though Louis’ not sure what he’s looking for. Maybe hope. Louis wants to give it. He smiles and sits in an empty chair.

“I’d like that.”

 

*****

 

Louis rummages through his closet, mumbling to himself over the shirt he can’t find. He’d been wanting to wear it today but had to settle for something less flattering. Now, it’s nearing midnight and he knows tomorrow is Halloween but he is determined to wear that fucking shirt.

It’s silly, he knows, trying to look good for a ghost but he can’t help it. He likes Harry and he _really_ likes the way Harry looks at him. Maybe it’s wrong, it’s only been a week since that night in the kitchen and while the ‘Louis’ that Harry speaks of does sound an awful lot like him, Louis doesn’t see how it could be. His Louis lived a hundred years ago, probably died an old man, maybe had children who have children Louis’ age.

Louis gets lost in the fantasy of Harry’s stories sometimes, likes to imagine that he _is_ Harry’s long lost lover. Conjures up images of seeing Harry across a crowded room and not being able to walk away without speaking to him. Calling him beautiful by using a line of poetry and then later gifting him with the very book the poem came from. Spending late nights reading from it to each other in candlelight, making love both before and after.

“Where the fuck is it?” He whispers in frustration, clawing another wrong shirt out of the way. He beats a fist on the wall in frustration and barely registers the hollow sound it makes. Sighing, he backs away, and then it hits him. Walls don’t sound hollow like that.  He leans into his closet, cursing the miniscule light that shines overhead, and feels around on the wall. His finger hits a dip in the wall and at first he thinks it’s just a crack but when he pushes harder, something catches. A small section of wall pops open and Louis’ jaw drops. There is a little safe there in his closet. The inside is cobwebbed and dusty, the seal on it obviously not that great but once he clears enough away to see inside, he can see what appears to be a jewelry box inside. He pulls it out carefully and retreats from his closet, moving to sit on his bed with it.

The box is old, Louis can tell but in surprisingly good condition. He wipes it off a little and finds the initials H.S. carved into the top.

“Holy shit.” He reaches for it but pauses before actually opening it. There’s a very good chance that this belongs to Harry. It would be an invasion of privacy to open it. Right?

“Harry?” Louis calls out, wondering if he’s close by. He usually is.

“You called?” Harry startles him, sticking only his head through the door.

Louis covers his hammering heart and glares as he takes a deep breath. “What did I tell you about doing that?”

“That it creeps you out,” Harry answers with a laugh. “It’s payback for all the times you’ve teased me before.”

Louis should address that, but before he can tell Harry that it’s not fair to punish him for the sins of his past self he sees Harry’s gaze shift to the box. His smile falls and he pushes the rest of the way through the door. “Where did you get that?”

“I found it. In a hole in in the wall in the closet,” Louis gestures to the open closet door. “I didn’t open it.”

Harry looks from the closet back to the box and then at Louis. “I had forgotten about that.” He sits down on Louis’ bed, the box resting between them and reaches out. He pulls his hand back and closes his eyes. When he opens them again and reaches for the box Louis can tell that he’s concentrating very hard.

Louis watches in awe as Harry’s fingers don’t slip through the wooden lid of the box, they catch on the edge and lift it up until it falls backward leaving the box wide open. There are letters scattered inside and Louis thinks he can see the corners of a few photographs in there as well.

“You should look,” Harry says quietly, gaze never leaving the letters. “They’re all from you anyway.”

“I sent you letters? When we lived together?” Louis asks, confused.

Harry smiles at him, just a quick quirk of the lips but Louis can tell that Harry’s pleased at his word choice. Up until now, Louis’ been denying that he’s part of Harry’s past with every breath. He didn’t want to give Harry hope for something that wasn’t going to happen but Louis’ gotten caught up in Harry’s hope he guesses, building onto it with his own.

“Your brother got sick. He was the only relative you had left,” Harry explains, all sense of mirth draining from his face. “You went to take care of him.”

“I came back though, right?”

Harry has a haunted look in his eyes that answers Louis’ question without a word being said.

Louis’ hand comes up to cover his mouth, maybe to hold in the denial he wants to scream, and tears prick at his eyes. “Something happened to you, didn’t it?”

Harry looks down at his hands in his lap. “Someone came calling late one night. Said they were hurt, so I opened the door and let them in.” Harry lets out a weak chuckle. “You always said how remote this place was, how far away from the world it seemed. And we liked that, we did, because of the privacy it afforded us, but in the end…” he looked up at Louis with an indefinable sadness in his eyes, “It turned out that they weren’t hurt. I fought them off but they wounded me badly enough that I didn’t think I could move. I just lay there while they took everything they could carry. And all I could think of was, who would tell _you_?” Harry raises his gaze to Louis and there are tears on his cheeks that match the ones Louis’ been too transfixed to wipe away during Harry’s tale. “Would you even know? Or would you come home to find me there? I prayed that wouldn’t happen. I hope it didn’t.”

“God, Harry,” Louis sniffs, finally moving a hand to wipe at his cheeks, a dull ache in his chest for the loss he can’t remember. “I don’t think I could have taken it if it did.”

“Anyway,” Harry changes the subject. “You can read the letters if you want, maybe they’ll stir something in your memory.”

“Okay,” Louis agrees on a whisper, picking up the brittle paper from the box. Letters in hand, Louis prepares to open the first one when a photo flutters to the bed. He and Harry both gasp at the sight of it.

It’s a photo from 19-fucking-12 if the year written on the back can be believed. But that’s not what  Louis finds the most shocking. It’s the fact that when Louis picks it up and turns it carefully in his hand, that it’s his own face smiling back at him.

Memories rush back to him and then Louis is falling into a swirl of black.

 

**1913**

_“It was taken last year,” Louis explains, handing Harry the photo of himself._

_Harry takes it, but grumpily so. “I don’t want a fucking photograph, Louis. I want you. Please, just stay here.”_

_Louis sighs, closing his luggage. “Harry. My brother is sick. I would regret it if I didn’t go home to take care of him. You know that.”_

_“I thought_ this _was your home,” Harry mumbles looking down at the photograph in his hand. He already kind of resents it. He’d rather have the real thing._

_“Harry,” Louis scolds lightly, moving to stand behind his lover, massaging his shoulders with soft hands. “I’ll wish that I was here every second. I’ll long to be with you and wish for you on every star in the night sky. But I have a duty to my brother,” he says, moving his hands from Harry’s shoulders to embrace him from behind, pressing his chest to Harry’s back, bury his face in his neck. “I’m all he has, love. I need to be there for him.”_

_Harry huffs out a breath both annoyed and resigned. “I know.” He turns in Louis’ arms, accepting his embrace as well as the fact that he must leave. “I just don’t know how to exist without you by my side anymore. I’m afraid you’ve spoiled me.”_

_Louis grins at him. “I could spoil you a little more before I leave,” he says with a wicked raise of his eyebrows._

_“Ooohh,” Harry purrs, lowering his hands to grab Louis’ bum with both hands. “I’m gonna take you up on that offer.”_

 

**_*_ **

 

“Louis?” Harry calls frantically. “Louis, _please_!” He can’t lose him again. Not now. Not when Harry was just starting to feel like this Louis might feel something for him too. Though, really, he knows he would be just as panicky if he had thought he was going to lose Louis that first day he walked back into this house. Harry can be okay with Louis not remembering him, he’s still very much the same man that Harry fell in love with an entire century ago, he just doesn’t remember their time together. That can be overcome.  “God, Louis. Please wake up.”

Louis eyelids flutter and Harry’s can feel his heartbeat stutter at the sight.

“Louis?”

“Harry?” Louis slurs, blinking lazily, reaching up and wrapping a hand around Harry’s wrist where his hands are cradling Louis’ face.

“Oh, thank god,” Harry breathes in relief. He’d kiss Louis if he could, he’s so thankful to have him back again.

“Harry.” Louis’ fingers squeeze his wrist. “You’re touching me.”

“Well, yeah. I didn’t know if you’d dropped dead or what. I was hysterical,” Harry chides, irritated that this is the first thing Louis mentions after freaking collapsing out of nowhere like that.

“No, I mean… your hands are on me. _Touching_ me,” Louis says again and Harry huffs in irritation.

“What’s your point, Louis? I was scared for you!”

“Harry. You. Are A Ghost,” Louis tells him like Harry isn’t already aware of the significance.

“I know.”

Louis laughs humorlessly. “Fine, forget explaining. Maybe you’ll understand this…” And he pulls Harry down by the lapels of his suit jacket, crashing their lips together. It feels endless, the touch of Louis’ lips. Like heaven. And that’s when Harry gets it. His eyes spring open from where they’ve closed of their own accord and he breaks the kiss even though he’d rather do anything but.

“You kissed me!” He exclaims.

“Yes,” Louis agrees meaningfully.

“Your lips touched mine. You _kissed me_ ,” Harry says again. It’s just, he can’t believe it. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” Louis says, looking up at him with a hint of a smile that has Harry squinting at him with playful suspicion.

“What?” He asks, petting Louis’ cheek. Because, for some reason, _he can_.

“There’s something else,” Louis admits, biting his bottom lip and staring at Harry with adoration.

“What?” Harry repeats, but in a whisper. He can already tell that whatever it is, it’s monumental.

“I _remember_ , Harry,” Louis smiles at him, so excited. “I remember everything.”

“That’s not a funny joke, Louis,” Harry tells him desperately, caressing Louis’ cheeks tenderly with his thumbs. “Tell me it’s not a joke.”

Louis sobers at Harry’s words, staring into his eyes with so much emotion. “I shall love you when I have no breath, long after my earthly days…”

Harry feels like _he_ has no breath right now. Louis remembers. “…Lingering, a soul on fire. Waiting for its mate,” Harry whispers into the air between them, finishing the last verse of the poem that Louis started. “You really remember.”

“I do, my love,” Louis concurs, running a hand through Harry’s messy hair. Harry closes his eyes and revels in the feel of it, moving to lay down with Louis and wrap his arms around him. He’s been longing for Louis’ touch. For decades.

Harry’s eyes snap back open when he realizes something. “What time is it?” He asks urgently.

Louis’ brow furrows in confusion but he turns his head to look at the clock on his nightstand. “Quarter after midnight, why?”

“It’s Samhain,” Harry announces, watching understanding fill Louis’ features. It’s always been thought that on Samhain, or Halloween, the veil between the world of the living and the land of the dead is at its thinnest on this day. “I think that’s why you can touch me.”

“So…, we have a day,” Louis surmises, looking torn between bliss at getting even a day where he can have his lover back, body and soul, and being distraught that a day is all they have.

“We have a day,” Harry echoes, clutching Louis tightly. A day is not enough and yet he feels endlessly thankful for it.

“Take me,” Louis demands immediately, making Harry’s skin feel flushed and his cock stir in his trousers. “Just, Whatever you do, don’t stop touching me.”

“God, yes,” Harry says, already burying his face in Louis’ neck. “Same.”

Mere minutes later, they’re naked and writhing against each other, lips locked in an enduring kiss. Harry opens Louis up slowly with his fingers and some new oil that Louis called _lube_ , that Harry doesn’t think he could ever get used to the feel of. It’s slick though and that’s what he needs so he goes with it, curling his fingers so that Louis moans long and loud.

“Careful, or people will think _you’re_ the ghost,” Harry jokes, hitting Louis’ spot again.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Louis groans, slapping at Harry lazily, body arching in pleasure.

“An amourous ghost, then,” Harry laughs at his own joke though he shuts up pretty quickly when Louis pulls him down into a kiss, only breaking away to whisper a “Fuck Me,” into his ear.

“Would fuck you forever if I could. Wish I was the first,” Harry utters, leaving bruises on Louis’ jaw, trailing them down his neck, and scissoring his fingers in Louis’ whole.

“You are,” Louis tells him breathlessly as Harry pulls his fingers out and Louis rolls over so that Harry can take him from behind.

“What?” Harry stops all movement. “No I’m not,” he argues, in a mood at the mere thought of what he’s about to say. “You told me before that there was someone before me.”

“I mean, this time,” Louis says, looking over his shoulder. “This time, you’re the first.”

Harry is struggling with a mix of confusion and elation. “What are you talking about, Louis?”

Louis rolls back onto his back so he doesn’t have to keep talking over his shoulder for this conversation and Harry can see tension in his shoulders and a flush on his cheeks. “I mean, in this life… I’d never been with anyone else. I tried,” he flinches at his own words. “ _He_ tried” he amends, speaking of the Louis he was before regaining his memories because the person he is _with_ his memories wouldn’t have even thought of it. ”But it never felt right, so… he just, didn’t. I think even before he came here, he was waiting to find you.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks hopefully. “You kept your promise.” He beams, heart soaring in elation at the idea that Louis is his and his alone. At least in this moment.

“So did you, my love,” Louis says pulling Harry in and licking into his mouth, humming into the kiss when Harry pushes into him right there, facing each other.

There is no sleep to be had as they spend the day touching and kissing and making love in every way possible. They take breaks for food and water, though Harry’s been so long without that he’d forgotten they were a necessity.

He groans appreciatively around Louis fingers when he feeds Harry a grape, chasing after them to suck the juice off.

“Slow down, babe,” Louis laughs. “You haven’t eaten in awhile. You’ll give yourself a tummy ache.”

“Ugh,” Harry groans again, rolling around in the sheets on Louis’ bed until he can kiss Louis’ stomach. “Missed your tummy. Missed worshiping every inch of your skin,” he adds, moving a little further down to leave another kiss behind.

“Me too,” Louis grins at him longingly. “I didn’t always know it, but I knew there was something I needed that I couldn’t seem to find.”

Harry lays his head on Louis’ belly, face turned to look at Louis’ face. “What happened, Lou?” Harry asks carefully.

“What do you mean, baby?” Louis asks, feeding Harry another grape.

Harry finishes the small morsel before speaking, “I kept my promise. I waited for you. How did you end up here and now?”

“Oh, baby,” Louis frowns, grief filling his features. “I didn’t do well after I heard about what happened to you. I couldn’t function. Didn’t even want to be here if you weren’t but I tried. I tried to go on living. Didn’t last long without you though. And I never came back here. I couldn’t. I left you here on your own and you were killed. I couldn’t wander through this house wondering if each room was the one where you were taken from me.”

“I looked for you, on the other side. For so long, I looked for you, Harry,” Louis looks so sorrowful. “When I didn’t find you, I knew something was wrong. I knew I had to come back.”

“You came back for me like you promised,” Harry whispers, grinning, eyes glistening.

“You’re my other half.”

Harry glances at the clock, it’s only an hour until midnight again. He moves over to rest in between Louis’ legs, crawling up his body to meet his mouth in a kiss. “Enough food,” he says, taking the plate of fruit from Louis and placing it on the nightstand. “I want you and only you.”

“How do you want me?” Louis asks with a smirk that Harry has missed so fucking much.

Harry shakes his head with a grin that’s just as filthy. “Just stay right where you are, baby.”

He reaches for Louis’ strangely thick oil and gets some on his fingers.

“I’m pretty sure I’m still open from the last twelve times,” Louis chuckles happily but his face falls slack when Harry reaches behind himself and fucks himself open on his own fingers. Louis sits there, watching Harry’s big, hard cock bob in his face as Harry sways forward and back, getting himself ready to be taken.

“Think I’m good,” Harry grunts, pulling his fingers from his arse and slicking up Louis’ cock. He adds more lube and moves to straddle his hips, lowering himself slowly onto his lover. They haven’t done it like this before, with Louis inside him, usually it’s the other way around, but it feels like a fucking _gift._ Harry exhales harshly, already feeling needy for more.

Louis grabs his hips, holding on with a bruising grip. Harry hopes the bruises will stay when their time runs out, a ghost of his touch to linger forever.

Another glance at the unforgiving clock. 11:11. He wishes they had more time. Eternity would be nice.

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis exhales in utter bliss as Harry rides him slowly, hips grinding down each time they collide. Harry can feel his body shaking underneath him and he understands. He knows how it feels to finally have something you’ve wanted for so long, something that feels like a part of you, finally coming home, finally clicking into place. His only regret is that he knows it is temporary.

Harry leans forward, pressing their foreheads together in a mirror of the night they made their vows to each other. One to wait, the other to return. He keeps riding Louis, the movements smaller but the pleasure just the same. “I love you, Louis,” Harry breathes onto his lips. “I never told you the first time. Don’t want to make that mistake ever again. I love you with everything I have. With everything that I am.”

“ _Harry,_ ” Louis arches into him, the depth of his emotions written all over his face, in his eyes, in the way he grasps onto Harry with his hands, like he’s afraid of letting go. “I love you, too. _Always._ Always you.”

Harry covers the slight distance between their lips, pressing his mouth to Louis’, dipping his tongue inside when Louis allows him entrance. There is no battle for dominance. Not this time. _This_ is a sweet, sweet surrender, for both of them.

They only break apart when Harry feels wetness on his cheeks and finds that he’s not sure if the tears are his or Louis’.

“Can this day last forever?” Louis whispers. “I can’t go back to not touching you.”

“I’ll still be here, baby. I’ll stay right here,” Harry promises.

“But to not be able to kiss you,” Louis laments, burying his hands in Harry’s hair.

“So kiss me now,” Harry offers. “Make it good,” he says with a playful grin that the tears in his eyes contradict.

Louis glances at the clock. 11:54. _No_. How did that happen? Time is moving too quickly. Louis surges forward and kisses Harry again, makes it count as he fucks up into him desperately, drawing pretty little, desperate, broken, whines from Harry’s throat. He doesn’t open his eyes until what feels like a lifetime later, when they’ve both come, still shuddering with the aftershocks, still feeling the intimacy of the moment, the complete and utter devastation of it. When he finally opens his eyes he finds that Harry is staring right back.

“I’m afraid to look,” Harry admits, tears still staining his cheeks.

“Me too.”

“Then let’s not. Let just stay like this until we can’t anymore.”

Louis smiles forlornly. “Sounds like an amazing plan.”

Minutes pass that feel like years.

“I’m gonna look.”

“Don’t,” Louis sounds panicky.

“I think,” Harry starts hesitantly. “I think it’s after midnight now.”

“What if it’s not? You can still touch me, Harry. What if it’s not?”

“It feels like it’s been ages, baby. I think it’s safe. I’m going to look,” Harry says again, cupping Louis’ cheeks and giving him a chaste kiss before turning his head slowly to check the time.

Louis clenches his eyes shut.

“Louis,” Harry calls to him softly.

“Yeah?” Louis replies, squeezing his eyes that much tighter.

“Look.” It’s a quiet command but Louis obeys it, slowly squinting his eyes open and turning his head to check the clock.

12:12.

“What does that mean?”

“Maybe…” Does Harry dare hope? “Maybe I get to stay.” His voice is so low, so quiet, he’s not sure Louis heard him.

Louis looks at him expectantly, speaking just as quietly, as if the hushed tone will allow them to stay together, will keep whatever force that’s kept them apart from letting them be together now. “You think so?”

“I think we deserve it. Maybe somebody else out there does too.”

“God, I hope so.”

“You know what they say, Lou,” Harry says with a tired smile, gazing intently into Louis’ eyes. “’Love conquers all’.”

They’re both confused, scared that it could all end in the blink of an eye, but also, somehow, elated, deliriously happy to maybe have a second chance. And, for them, it feels like it might be true. Maybe love _does_ conquer all.

 

Three weeks later, when Harry still hasn’t reverted to his ghostly form, Louis takes Harry to his first tattoo parlor (the first of many) and they get matching tattoos.The don’t know if their time like this will end, or when, but if it does, they want _something_ saying they belong together. Just in case. They could have gotten Harry’s cheesy ‘love conquers all’, but Louis wanted something more poetic, seeing as poetry is at the root of their origin story.  Now, their entire story is inked into their skin in three simple phrases for all the world to see: Veni, Vidi, Amavi. We came, we saw, we  _loved._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and Kudos make me very happy so please leave some if you're able.
> 
> Also, it’s been brought to my attention that the Latin is translated wrong. It should be “I came, I saw, I loved.” Don’t fail your Latin tests because of me! But also, this is an Au where my version is right. :p


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